Read Online The Homecoming by M. C. Beaton, Marion Chesney - Free Book Online Page A

said Gerald. “Oh, the sunshine in Italy. We will probably remember this fine summer when we are quite old because it is so unusual. But in Italy the sun shines every day and there is a restless, excited feeling in the streets.”
    “What of the art and architecture?”
    “Oh, those. Well, people do prose on and drag on about the churches and ruins, but it was the life in the streets which interested me. You should see Venice, Miss Lizzie. Streets of water with the sun shining on it like molten gold.”
    “It is very fine here,” said Lizzie primly, “and you have not looked about you once.”
    “I was looking at your enchanting face.”
    “You are trying to make me fall in love with you, sir, and all for your amusement.”
    Gerald, who had been hoping for a flirtatious dalliance with this little redhead to beguile the tedium of a country visit, burst out laughing, and said, “Are you usually so perceptive?”
    “On the contrary, I often do not see what is under my very nose. Let me just say your tactics make your motives very plain.”
    “You do not have much vanity, do you, Miss Lizzie? Many a lady would have believed every word I said.”
    “They can’t have had red hair,” said Lizzie gloomily.
    “Silly fashions. They come and go. You will make red hair the fashion.”
    “I am not fashionable, either in looks or speech.”
    “That is what makes you so intriguing.”
    “There you go again,” said Lizzie on a sigh. “Let us walk to the folly and look at the lake.”
    “So we walk to the folly and look at the lake, and then what?”
    “It is a very beautiful view,” said Lizzie reprovingly.
    He laughed and strode out in the direction of the lake so that she had to scamper, holding on to her hat, to keep up with him.
    “The view will not go away,” she panted.
    He slowed his step and smiled down at her. Lizzie felt suddenly a little breathless and it was nothing to do with the fast pace. Gerald Parkes was so very beautiful.
    “You look startled. What’s amiss?” he asked.
    “You are very beautiful.”
    “And you are bamming me!”
    “Oh, dear,” said Lizzie, colouring up. “I have spoken my mind again. How embarrassing. I beg you to forget it.”
    “Not I! I shall preen myself quite dreadfully for the rest of the day.”
    “Be sensible. Now here is the folly. Mr. Judd, the owner of Mannerling who hanged himself, blew it up. This is a replacement.”
    “He must have been all about in his upper chambers. Why did he blow it up?”
    “He had taken the Beverleys in dislike. He knew that he was expected to marry Isabella, my eldest sister, and he let her believe he meant to propose at the first ball he held at Mannerling. Instead, he proposed to the vicar’s daughter.”
    “What a truly dreadful man. Would your sister have really married him just to regain Mannerling?”
    Lizzie bit her lip. “It seems a madness now. We felt we were nobodies without Mannerling. Our pride and ambition were great. But Isabella fell deeply in love with Lord Fitzpatrick and so it all had a happy ending.”
    “For everyone—except Mr. Judd.”
    The sunlight sparkled on the lake, where two brightly coloured rowing-boats held by their painters bobbed beside a small wooden jetty. Weeping willows trailed long fingers in the still water.
    “If you want excitement,” said Lizzie, “you should go and look down into the waters of the lake when they are still and clear as they are today. People have seen the drowned face of Mr. Cater.”
    “And who was Mr. Cater? Another suicidal owner?”
    “No, but he wished to possess Mannerling. He disappeared from our lives and we never found out what became of him.”
    “I have never seen a ghost,” cried Gerald. “Let’s go and look.”
    “Not I,” said Lizzie with a shudder. “I believe in ghosts.”
    With a laugh, he ran lightly down the grassy bank which led to the jetty. He turned and waved to Lizzie. When he reached the jetty, he knelt down on one knee and stared